


That Unfortunate Vase

by BooksOverPeople



Series: Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Multi, OHSHC and Sherlock Crossover, Sherlock gets John in trouble, as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-05
Updated: 2014-06-05
Packaged: 2018-02-03 12:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1744658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BooksOverPeople/pseuds/BooksOverPeople
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a little piece I wrote for http://sansathegreatest.tumblr.com/ on tumblr who prompted me.<br/>She wanted me to write a little ficlet involving The Ouran High School Host Club and Johnlock. I hope you like this, sweetie! <3<br/>~Zal<br/>(you can find me on tumblr: mrsex-in-a-crown.tumblr.com)</p>
    </blockquote>





	That Unfortunate Vase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansathegreatest](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sansathegreatest).



> This is a little piece I wrote for http://sansathegreatest.tumblr.com/ on tumblr who prompted me.  
> She wanted me to write a little ficlet involving The Ouran High School Host Club and Johnlock. I hope you like this, sweetie! <3  
> ~Zal  
> (you can find me on tumblr: mrsex-in-a-crown.tumblr.com)

Creeping along the wall, John and Sherlock both held their breaths. The darned cat that had stolen Sherlock’s scarf was a vicious little thing with claws that the evil little devil probably sharpened on the concrete every fucking day.

 

John ruefully clutched at his arm where the cat had sunk his claws in defiance to John’s attempt to grab the scarf out of its mouth.

 

_“Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side,” Sherlock always said._

And yet here they were chasing the devil’s incarnate in the form of a cat because the lanky bastard’s favourite scarf had been stolen.

 

Said cat was lounging on a rug in the middle of the large room they’d followed it into, rolling around happily with the cashmere scarf tangled in its paws.

 

“Maybe if we scare it, it’ll drop the scarf and run?” suggested John

 

Sherlock snorted, “And how do you propose we do that, Watson? We’ve already determined that it isn’t scared of human beings.”

 

John looked around and his eyes landed on a vase not two metres away from them.

“A loud crash might do it,” he grinned.

 

He lifted the vase and tested its weight in his hand. It wasn’t very heavy and it was an unfortunate looking one too. He was sure no one would miss it.

In the commotion of lifting it above his head and throwing it right next to the cat where it shattered into a million little pieces, he completely missed Sherlock’s cry of warning.

John smiled. Just as he had hoped, the cat had freaked and run away, leaving the scarf behind. Triumphant, he picked up the blue thing shaking it free of any glass shards.

 

“Here you go, Sher-,“ he said turning back to Sherlock only to freeze when he saw that Sherlock had his face in his hands and was laughing uncontrollably.

 

John hesitated. It wasn’t often that Sherlock laughed and he had certainly never seen him laugh like that in his life.

Tentatively, he approached the tall shuddering figure and lightly shoved him, “Sherlock? Mate, what’s so funny?”

 

Sherlock gasped as he attempted to reign in his laughter, “The vase- Good Lord- the vase, John!”

 

John frowned, “What about that ugly thing?”

 

“That ugly things is worth 5,000 English pounds,” Sherlock guffawed

 

John felt the blood drain from his face as 6 boys entered the room, looking disheveled from sleep but their eyes unusually alert.

The tallest one was a striking figure wearing a pair of plaid pajama bottom and no shirt, his toned chest on full view.

“Who the fuck broke our vase?”

His voice seemed to match his appearance, masculine and rough.

 

To his dismay, John’s own voice came out meek and apologetic, “I did.”

 

“Why would you do that, you moron? That’s an antique! Do you how much that’s worth, you imbecile?!” a blonde boomed.

 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize it was worth anything!”

 

“Even if it wasn't worth anything, why the hell would you break something that doesn't belong to you? Why are you even in the Host Club’s meeting room in the first place? This place doesn’t allow anyone except Host Club members and their clients. Are you insane?!” continued the same blonde. He was on the short side but his shaggy hair and piercing eyes added a certain dangerous aura to him.

 

John stood tall, eyes narrowed, refusing to take these people’s shit, “I said, if you were listening, that I was sorry. It wasn’t on purpose and I apologize. I didn’t even know what room we were in.”

 

“You have to pay for it.”

 

John gaped. He didn’t have 5,000 pounds! How was he supposed to pay them?

 

“I don’t have that kind of money,” he finally said.

 

“We don’t care. You broke it, you pay for it,” piped up a rugged brunette from the back of the group.

 

“He could join you. And work with you until the cost was covered.”

Sherlock who had been silent for the entire exchange suddenly said, baritone bouncing off the walls of John’s skull. Work with them? Who the hell were they anyway?

 

The 6 boys started whispering to each other, flicking alternating gazes to John as if assessing him and sizing him up.

 

John’s entire body was tense while Sherlock looked utterly bored and uninterested, leaning against the table on which the vase once rested but his glinting eyes gave away his excitement.

 

“Fine. He’s attractive enough, I’m sure he’ll be able to make himself worthwhile. You start tomorrow, _John_ ,” said the shirtless guy who John had pinned as the leader of the group. He spat his name out as if it were something rotten and John’s fists suddenly ached to hit him.

 

The six lads turned and left the room, shouting to him to clean up the mess he’d made on their otherwise pristine floor.

As soon as they were out of sight, John whirled in Sherlock.

 

“What,” he snarled “did you just get me into?”

 

“The Ouran High School Host Club,” said Sherlock innocently “They _entertain_ female clients.”

 

**_“_** **_YOU SIGNED ME UP TO BE A PROSTITUTE?!”_ **


End file.
